by Janet Woods
The place hadn’t changed. The ancient dusty smell of it gave him a cruel kick that tore open his wound. He hadn’t been inside a church since that day. He remembered standing before the altar, a faintly derisive smile on his face as if he didn’t care that the congregation was whispering behind his back. As that awful day had progressed they’d begun to leave one by one. When the soft evening light had turned into darkness the Reverend Bryson had extinguished the candles on the altar. ‘Go home, my lord. Your bride will not be coming now.’
He’d gone, only to pack his travelling bag. He’d stopped in Poole long enough to inform his attorney of his departure and to sign the papers necessary to run the Madigan estate before he headed for London.
Oliver Bryson looked up at him now and smiled. ‘I thought that might’ve been you in the inn.’
‘I was too tired to be sociable. You should have said something.’
‘You had an unapproachable air about you, as though you were sizing things up. But I wasn’t sure, since the beard has changed your appearance considerably. Besides, I was more interested in trying to stir up a search party for the woman traveller.’
‘Nobody was going to leave that fireside and a cup of hot toddy to risk their lives for a lost woman, not even you, Oliver.’
‘You did.’
‘Because it was on my way home. Besides, I’d sent my companion on ahead and had to check that he’d arrived safely.’
‘You’ve been a long time gone and there had been no correspondence from you. We were discussing the preparation of papers to put before the court and have you pronounced dead in absentia.’
‘We?’
‘Stephen Tessler and myself. He came across an article stating that a snake had struck at you on a riverbank and you’d died, and had been buried in a cave in India. How are you, my lord?’
‘I’m well enough for someone who’s dead and buried. The snake had no venom. You’ll be pleased to hear I found the woman alive, though she’s suffering from a fever and a cough.’
‘Surprised would be a better word. She must have a strong constitution to have survived exposure for several hours on the heath in such weather. She’s ill, you say. Will she live?’
Ryder nodded. ‘After spending half the night on the heath in the snow, I can only say that she certainly has the will. I thought it would do her good to have her companion with her so she doesn’t worry about her. I’ve come to collect the young lady.’
The reverend looked troubled. ‘They found room for Sarah Pelham in the workhouse.’
‘Oh … I see.’ Ryder was puzzled. ‘I thought you had offered her your hospitality. You acted rather quickly considering they have the same surname. They are obviously related. I would have thought you’d have waited until you’d heard from me. Now they’ll have to let her out again.’
‘Are you sure that’s wise, my lord?’
‘I don’t know what’s wise and what isn’t, but I’m certainly of an age where advice is unwelcome unless it’s asked for.’
‘Then I won’t inflict any more on you, unless asked.’
Ryder sighed. He’d upset him. ‘You seem to have an objection, Reverend. May I ask what it is?’
The man shrugged. ‘My wife said the girl had too much to say for herself and she turned out to be rude and ungrateful. I was surprised, because they seemed to be getting on at first. Mary gave her some clean clothes and some breakfast, and then she got a ride on one of the wagons and took her into Poole, to the workhouse. My wife thought they might be able to find her employment as a scullery maid. A girl of her age would probably work hard for little more than a roof over her head and a meal in her stomach.’
‘The ethics of which hardly bears thinking about,’ Ryder said. ‘She might be forced to do more if the wrong employer got hold of her.’
‘Ethics, is it? That’s all right for you, my lord. You were born with a silver spoon in your hand and never wondered where the next meal was coming from to dip it into.’
Ryder hadn’t pondered on his privileged position in a long time. He’d learned it wasn’t relevant in the face of death. ‘Most people prefer to work than accept outright charity. It allows them to keep their pride intact.’
‘They could be picking oakum or packing pins in the workhouse instead. What’s the difference?’
‘My pardon, Reverend, you are right, of course, and I retract my words if you’ll allow me. Right now the girl has employment waiting, looking after her mistress … sister … daughter, whatever the girl’s position is?’
The reverend shuffled from one foot to the other. ‘Sarah Pelham is the stepdaughter of Mrs Pelham, I believe. Her father—’
‘Spare me the family history, Oliver. I don’t give a fig whose loins these women sprang from. Both need help, and for the time being, at least, I can provide it. My home will need staffing from the ground up, so I’ll probably be able to fit the pair of them into my household if they need employment and have nowhere else to go.’
The reverend frowned for a moment, then he straightened, ironic amusement captured in his eyes. ‘May I just say, if you act in haste you’re likely to repent at leisure. Yes … you could employ them, I suppose, but it remains to be seen. There really is something you should be made aware—’
‘Save it for later, Reverend. I have no time to stand and chat since at the moment I’m trying to rustle up some stores and some house staff before the weather closes in. There’s nothing colder and more unwelcoming than a house that’s been left empty for some time.’
‘As you wish, my lord. May I just enquire if your intention is to remain in the district?’
‘My intention is to make the estate productive. Do you know what happened to my caretakers?’
‘They were old. They died about three years ago, within weeks of each other. They were grateful to have somewhere to spend their last few years together in comfort. I consulted with Stephen Tessler and we decided that rather than hire a stranger we’d simply employ an enterprising young man, a relation who was known to us, and who lived a short distance away, to keep an eye on the place for a fee.’
‘His name?’
‘Luke Ashburn.’
Ryder searched his mind. ‘Ashburn …?’ He couldn’t put a face to the name. ‘I didn’t think you had any relations, except me.’
Oliver smiled. ‘He came as a surprise to us too. Luke is … well, you could say he’s my wife’s nephew. He’s good with figures and works in an accountancy office in Dorchester at present. Luke recently came of age and into his legacy, but has been running his own household since he was seventeen … some four years since. I can guarantee his honesty. The attorney who represents us both looks after his legal affairs. I trust you approve.’
Ryder didn’t entirely approve. Close kin could turn minor disputes into wars, especially if money was involved. However, he recognized that the fault was on his own head, since he’d neglected the Madigan estate. To be fair, he’d be just as guilty at offering work to a needy relative if he had one.
Now he was home he would need a manager for the estate, and at least the young man had kept it in some sort of order. But if he was adequately housed and could afford to hire an attorney for his own affairs, it seemed to Ryder that those who were unemployed and also suitably qualified should be offered the position.
Ryder felt ashamed of his curt manner. The reverend had gone beyond what most people would expect. ‘Thank you, and please accept my apology for being so churlish earlier. I got very little sleep last night. Perhaps you would tell Mr Ashburn to come and see me when the snow has cleared.’
A wry smile twisted the man’s mouth. ‘He’s another soul who doesn’t take advice kindly and insists on learning from his own mistakes. He’ll probably make himself known to you before too long, and when it pleases him. Now I must go. I have a lot to get through today in case it starts to snow again … and I think it’s more than likely.’
Ryder smarted a little from the comparison, and was ann
oyed to think that Ashburn would come only at his own convenience. ‘Make it clear to your wife’s nephew that the time and place will suit me, not the other way around. Good day to you.’
As he turned to ride away the reverend called after him, ‘Miss Pelham told Mary they were on their way to Brackenhurst. They have relations there, apparently.’
Pelham … the name wasn’t uncommon. The wine merchant in Poole was called Pelham, so was a family of potters and brick makers in Verwood.
Brackenhurst was a large village populated mostly by wealthy tradesmen. There was a small church and vicarage on the outskirts. It provided a living for the Reverend Bryson. Then there were the usual shops and a bakery, plus a physician. Mrs Pelham and her stepdaughter didn’t show any outward signs of wealth. Perhaps her relatives were shopkeepers.
So why had the reverend mentioned it?
The idea his mind threw at him was just too coincidental to entertain.
Hah! He threw back at himself and put it from his mind.
Adele came out of sleep, her body bathed in perspiration again. Murmuring with distress she threw the covers off. The crumpled chemise she wore stuck to her flesh and her mouth was so dry there was barely any moisture left in it.
A man approached the bed carrying a tumbler, his form a tall dark shape against the light streaming through the window. When he got closer she saw a handsome if slightly weatherworn face, and grey eyes.
She gulped down the contents of the tumbler held to her cracked lips, shuddering at its sharpness. She murmured, ‘I’m too warm.’
‘You must try and keep the covers over you, Mrs Pelham. I’ve just given you some willow bark. It will help bring your temperature down.’ The voice was gruff. ‘Would you like me to cool you down a little? I could wash your face, and then brush your hair and braid it. After that you might like to take some tea. We have to make sure you drink plenty. I can make you some breakfast if you think you can manage it. We have fresh eggs and some ham, and we’re waiting for a cow to arrive with a delivery of fresh milk.’
She managed a smile, but it felt more like a grimace. ‘I’m not hungry, but thank you … I forget your name.’
‘I haven’t told you it.’
When she’d met him the previous night she’d formed the impression he’d been a younger man with blue eyes. But it had been dark, and her mind had been rambling. ‘Will you introduce yourself, then?’
‘It’s Halifax Stover. Most people call me Hal.’
When she struggled to sit and see what lay beyond the window, for there was something familiar about the room, her head spun.
‘Stay there, Mrs Pelham. I’ll put a towel under your head so the pillow doesn’t soak up the excess water. If you need to get out of bed for any reason let me know and I’ll make sure you have privacy.’
‘I don’t … not yet.’
‘Because you have a fever and you’re perspiring.’
The water was wonderfully cool as he carefully bathed her face, neck and hands, and as impersonally as if she were a child. Goosebumps crawled over her body like ants and she began to shake. ‘I’m shivering.’
‘The fever is the cause of that. You will go from one extreme to the other for a while, I’m afraid.’ He gently brushed the knots from her hair and loosely braided it before hanging the plait over her shoulder. ‘There … that’s better.’
The tea was sweetened with honey and she appreciated its flavour as she sipped it, her teeth chattering against the lip of the cup as she said, ‘I’ve got to get to Brackenhurst. I have property there … and relatives.’
‘Are they expecting you?’
‘No.’
‘So your relatives will still be there when you’re fit enough to travel, will they not?’
‘Yes … but …’
‘But nothing, Mrs Pelham, and I can’t stress this enough. You are seriously ill as well as being undernourished. The young woman you were with will be here soon to look after you. We will send your relatives at Brackenhurst a note when the snow clears, so they’ll expect you.’
‘May I ask you something, Hal?’ she said, when he moved away – and her blush added to the flush of fever now firing her cheeks. ‘My clothing … who … undressed me?’
‘I removed your boots and you managed the rest by yourself. Don’t you remember?’
She most certainly didn’t remember – she didn’t remember anything – and must thank him for sparing her feelings when she recovered, she thought, and said when he moved to gaze out of the window, ‘Is this your home?’
‘Where I lay my head to rest on any given day is usually my home. However, I can’t lay claim to this house since it belongs to Lord Madigan, who is also my friend. It was the earl who saved your life and brought you in from the heath.’
She gave a cry of anguish. ‘No wonder it seemed familiar. This cannot be … Ryder is dead. He died from snakebite in India two years ago. It was reported in a news-sheet and I saw it with my own eyes.’
‘Rumour, that’s all. It wasn’t a venomous snake and he recovered.’
‘You mustn’t let him see me … I can’t face him, not like this. I must leave at once … where is my clothing?’ She struggled to fight off the damp and twisted rope of sheets that seemed to be trying to bind her body to the bed. ‘I must go … I feel sick. I thought he was dead and I mourned for him.’ She retched, but nothing came up and the effort fatigued her. She gave a little groan.
‘Hush, don’t agitate yourself, my dear. The earl has already seen you … in fact, he rescued you from a blizzard.’ Gently, he pushed her back on the pillow, his voice soft and reassuring. ‘You are going nowhere at the moment.’
‘I doubt if I could even walk to the door without assistance.’
He gazed down at her, his eyes sharp as they scrutinized her features. ‘Ryder is not here at the moment. He showed no sign of recognizing you before, though it was dark and there is no reason why he should wish to see you on his return. As for your garments, you had only those you wore on your back with you and they’re hanging in the wardrobe.’
A chill hit her, a mind-numbing cold that made her shake and shiver. Her teeth began to chatter and words tumbled out of the befuddled maze of her mind. ‘I left him there … poor Ryder. I couldn’t face him.’
Hal soothed her, pulling the bed covers up under her chin. ‘The fever is making your mind wander and you’ve had a shock.’
Yes, that was it. Her mind was at odds because of the fever. She would go to sleep and when she woke everything would be as it once was before. She plucked at his sleeve. ‘You won’t let him hurt me, will you?’
‘Calm yourself now and rest. Nobody here is going to hurt you. I can hear a wagon and must see to the provisions. Sleep now and don’t worry about anything.’
As if she were a child and he her father, she told herself, except her father had closed the door against her. ‘You no longer exist,’ he’d said.
Perhaps it had been a mistake to return. She willed herself to die and the room conveniently faded to a suffocating darkness.
The next time Adele woke it was to discover a female figure gazing down at her. She stood in a white light that poured through the window. Adele screwed her eyes up against its glare. ‘Are you an angel?’
‘Dear me, now there’s an odd notion and I certainly hope I haven’t reached that state yet. I’m Mrs Betts … the housekeeper. Mr Stover has explained your circumstances and has asked me to see to your needs, Mrs Pelham. I’ve stoked up the fire.’
So she still wasn’t dead. Disappointment stabbed at her. ‘Would you pull the curtain across please; the light hurts my eyes.’
‘It stopped snowing earlier and the sun is reflecting off the snow. It’s bitterly cold though and I reckon it will snow again tonight, since there’s a big band of low cloud on the horizon.’
Mrs Betts’ face took on a form when she approached. She was about forty-five, angular and thin-faced, but in a pleasant sort of way. Adele placed a hand over the
woman’s as she went to straighten the bed covers. ‘Have you worked here for a long time?’
‘No, Mrs Pelham … we, that is Amy and Edith and Bessie the cook, used to work together at our previous positions. Our mistress upped and died, God rest her soul, and we were turned out. We heard there was some work going here in Dorset, but it wasn’t true … not at first, anyway. Then along comes the earl and says he’d be prepared to employ us, on account that he owned a house that had been closed up for years. He said he’d understand if we didn’t want the job because the place needed a good clean and would take a while to set straight. But if we suited each other the positions would become permanent … as if we’d ignore an offer of employment. Beggars can’t be choosers, I always say.’
Her mouth parched, Adele hoped the woman would soon stop her chatter as she reached for the glass of water with shaking hands.
‘There, there … it’s weak you are.’ Mrs Betts reached it first and held it to her lips. ‘A nice young man is the master of the house … very polite. You could tell he was above the salt. If there’s any lifting to do there will be at least two men to help out until we get adequate help, myself and Mr Stover, he says,’ and Mrs Betts’ head went to one side like an inquisitive bird. ‘If you don’t mind me asking, Mrs Pelham, are you a relative?’
Something inside Adele’s head briefly flared, like the first shining beam of sunlight on earth, then it extinguished. She gave a faint smile. The lack of a few heartfelt words had prevented herself and Ryder from becoming relations. Circumstance had left them unsaid and they would remain that way. Besides, it wouldn’t be long before word reached the housekeeper’s ears and she learned the truth.
‘No, Mrs Betts, I’m not a relation. I’m nobody – nobody at all and will be moving on as soon as I’ve recovered.’
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